


The Jerk and The Asshole

by Stray_Ashes



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angry Kissing, Asshole!Gerard, College, Fourth of July, Frank has stupid ideas, Frank's a vegetarian, It's my first work in english, Jamia's useless, Love/Hate, M/M, barbecue with the Ways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-12 01:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7915600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stray_Ashes/pseuds/Stray_Ashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I hated Gerard Way.<br/>And I’m not just saying it. I truly hated him.<br/>You know, that kind of hatred – pure and irreversible – that nestles in your chest and makes it rot slowly? Yeah, that. If hatred were an organ, it would look like one of those horrible, shriveled, smoke-eaten lungs… even a bit more ugly, maybe.<br/>And if I hadn’t had eighteen years of memories to rely on, I wouldn’t even have been so sure why I hated him so much… There weren’t many people able to hate Gerard Way, after all. Even if he was wrong or in fault, people couldn’t blame him for too long or feel resentment toward him, for some reasons.<br/>But then there was me. The exception – not very exceptional. The one who was different – as always. Because I did know Gerard in person, and yet I hated him.<br/>Nonetheless, they always say how hate sometimes tastes a lot like love...<br/>_______________________<br/>This is the first time I properly write something in english, so... yeah. Please, read the notes!<br/>_Ashes</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Jerk and The Asshole

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> I confess, this is the first time I properly write something in English… see, I’m Italian, but I wanted to write this thing in english (I love the language, obv) and find out what other people think about it. 
> 
> The story is short (it originally was a Oneshot for my 30 Kisses Challenge, but I particularly liked it, so I tried to translate it by myself), I hope you enjoy it anyway and I would really love comments and stuff, but mostly, I’d appreciate if you could alert me of any error, so I can edit it. It would be a huge help! Thank you,
> 
> _Ashes

 

 

 

**The Jerk and The Asshole**

** **

 

 

 

 

I hated Gerard Way.

And I’m not just saying it. I truly hated him.

You know, that kind of hatred – pure and irreversible – that nestles in your chest and makes it rot slowly? Yeah, that. If hatred were an organ, it would look like one of those horrible, shriveled, smoke-eaten lungs… even a bit more ugly, maybe.

And if I hadn’t had eighteen years old of memories to rely on, I wouldn’t even have been so sure why I hated him so much… and no one else beside me could ever understand that. There weren’t many people able to hate Gerard Way, after all, and if it happened, well it was because they didn’t know him in person or not properly, and they based on prejudices. Even if he was wrong or in fault, people couldn’t blame him for too long or feel resentment toward him, for some reasons.

But then there was me. The exception – not very exceptional. The one who was different – as always. Because I did know Gerard in person, and yet I hated him. I’ve known him for eighteen years, and yet I still hated him. I should be classified as an endangered species, or as a species that should be deleted, whatever. It depends from the point of view.

And right now, abandoned as a filthy rag over my unmade bed, I was staring grimly at the ceiling, pursing my lips as I tried to gather the reasons why I hated Gerard Way, and really, if you’re asking it to yourself, _yes_ – I did have something better to do, but my mind was messed up this way and there was nothing I could do about it.

Beside, at any moment I would start to get angry with myself, beginning to swear again and playing my guitar ‘till my fingers hurt; anything just to get rid of this useless frustration, before I collapsed again on this same fucking bed until I fell asleep. The conversations with my head always ended this way. The best thing ever was that I had to live with myself for my entire fucking life. Awesome.

So, why did I hate Gerard? And why I was asking this question? For the latter, I actually have an answer.

It all went down two hours ago when my mom called me in the kitchen, and yes, I was still struggling with myself after _two_ _hours_ -  but screw it, that conversation had brought a catastrophe…

“Honey? Can you come here for a minute?” these had been the exact words of my mother. Really, I think moms have a code of particular words and phrases, studied by a bunch of intellectuals and nerds, assembled up together with the only purpose of dupe and screw you while throwing in your face buckets of diplomatic politeness. Nonetheless, I went in the kitchen as I was told because that bunch of intellectuals and nerds apparently knew how to do their job well. 

“You know what day is tomorrow, right?”

I had blinked a couple of times. My mother had huffed. “It’s the 4th of July, Frank” That time I had blinked just once, before I nodded suspiciously.

Forgetting rapidly about my lack of mental presence and attention to the calendar (it was summer, what the fuck), my mother had grinned a giant smile (they also had a code of smiles for whatever occasion, I knew) and then she had started to reorder the already ordered kitchen, all smug about a reason I didn’t know back then – and it had been better off that way.

“Well, our neighbors invited us to a barbecue! Isn’t it wonderful, Frank?”

No. No it wasn’t.

I had swallowed once, warily. “The neighbors on the left or on the right?”

It had been my mother’s turn to blink a couple of times. “Left”

And I had felt the whole world fall on me.

Yes, I was a melodramatic, but this thing was terrible. A disaster. Every goddamned 4th of July I had been happily alone in my room or at one of those empty parks with Mama, and I had always been perfectly fine, thank you very much.

“Jesus Christ! And why not the neighbors on the _right_?”

“Because they have 70 years old for each leg, Frank” my mother had answered cautiously. She was good at recognizing my crisis, and she was also very good at not doing anything about it. Not at all. Don’t misunderstand me, she loved me like every mother should, but I had to inherit my cynicism from someone, didn’t I?  “However, where’s the problem? Some company will be good for you, and probably for me, too. The neighbors on the left are really nice, and also pretty rich. Oh, and do you remember their son?”

“No”

“He returned from college recently,” she had went on, hands on her hips, deliberately ignoring me. “I saw him the other day. He had become a very good looking guy, Frank. I bet you’d like him. What was his name – Jared?”

“Gerard”

“You remember him then!”

On the verge of a breakdown, I had threw my hands in my hair, clenching my teeth. “But it’s a _barbecue_! And I am a _vegetarian_ , mom. What the fuck am I going to do to at a barbecue?!”

“Oh, come on, there’ll definitely be those horrible grilled vegetables, they’re always there”  she had countered back, waving carelessly, not bothered by my language at all – and for that I was grateful. My mom was secretly a bit of a punk in the heart. In the end, we had a good relationship, me and her. “So. You and Gerard were friends? ‘Cause I took the opportunity to tell his mother you wanted to ask him some questions about college”

I was kidding. We didn’t have a good relationship anymore, me and her.

Throwing my hands in the air, I had given up and I had locked myself in my room, where I was lying right now, trying – as I said – to form a summary of inflexible reasons why I hated Gerard Way that much. And there wasn’t a chance in the world I would ever ask him whatever question, let alone about college.

He had been away all the year and not risking to see him every time I had to take Mama out, had been pretty fucking nice, honestly. You could notice right away how the neighborhood seemed much more brighter. This in my opinion, of course. In everybody else’s opinion, he deserved a party for his short comeback, and not the wildfire I would have planned.

Gerard Way, after all, had the cookies and the love of the elderly men, the esteem and approval of the adults, the respect and the support of his peers, and the wet trail of girls’ drool behind him. Ew…

A party in his “honor” would probably be the most disgusting thing I could ever attend in my life, and I wasn’t just saying this because I didn’t have parties, not even for my birthday. Nope. It was my  decision. I hated parties, just like every respectable punk should.

In the heart, Gerard had always been a cynic asshole, especially with me; arrogant, cocky, unattainable, reserved, imperfectly perfect. Then, in the eyes of everyone else, he had become more of a man then just a teen, he had chased his dream, he had become a talented artist; he could paint, sing, write, manage his life. Everyone had even been able to close a eye upon his old alcohol addiction.

He went to college, he returned with a smile, a paint stain on his hand, and wild black hair.

But I still hated him. Because he still looked at me in the exact same way, because he was still an asshole, and because I’d never forgive him easily. I’d never forget the mud castles I used to build as a kid – the ones he used to destroy every time, and I’d never forget his little insults, his laughter, his deceits and tricks. Once, he had embarrassed me in front the girl I liked, right there on the porch of my house. And once again, he had made me the laughingstock of the town with some stupid fucking lie.

Then, he sometimes suddenly looked for me at night, telling me all of his ambitions, his dreams, his stories, and then the day after he simply vanished, or he returned to harass and fool me around like it was some cruel game, because that’s exactly what I was to him: a toy. And as much as the young, childish me had tried, Gerard would have never allowed me to become his friend. What he hadn’t done, though, was prevent me from becoming his enemy, and so it had been pretty easy.

Maybe it looked like he had changed in the eyes of everybody else, but he hadn’t. 

And I didn’t hate him just because I was jealous. Absolutely not. It’s out of question. Nope.

I was okay in my world of failures.

And these, are some of the reasons why I detested Gerard, and oddly enough, I was angry with myself as I had predicted.

I didn’t exactly know why my mind had wanted to concentrate on this topic, but it wasn’t helping my situation at all, because my resentment only increased and, willing or not, my mother would drag me to that barbecue with Mama’s leash, if necessary. 

Well, I didn’t have to speak to him, or look at him in the eyes, or stay less than two meters from him – or so I tried to tell me reassuringly, but I knew way to well I would end up failing and my mother would embarrass me merciless. Truth be told, I was very happy I didn’t have a girlfriend or something like that, I was pretty sure my mom would have been able to find one of those horrible photo album you always see in those cheesy romantic movies.

Just before I fell asleep, however, my mind stayed for some seconds on the fact that many times I had asked myself why I hated Gerard Way, but I had quite never asked myself why I _shouldn’t_. Right after that, just before I could do something about it, my mind shut down and I fell asleep.

* * * *

The Way family’s porch was just like ours, but with more flowers. Unlike my mother, who was alone trying to maintain us, Donna Way had the time for gardening, and I could easily see the slight envy in my mom’s eyes. We both had something to envy to the Way family… but most likely, the whole neighborhood had something to envy them for.

The person who opened the door was a tall and bony guy, with a poker-face and blonde hair, that I recognized as Gerard’s little brother, Mikey. I had never been exactly sure what to think about him, but I wouldn’t make a decision today either. Right now, my head was a mess of ‘ _enter this house, survive, escape from this house_ ’.

Donna Way was as tall as Linda Iero, with the same polite and motherly smile, but her hair was blonde instead of brown. Regarding Donald Way, I couldn’t tell much considering I didn’t have a father. Whatever.

“Gerard! Come down, our guests are here” Donna called up the stairs, right after she invited us in, making us sit on the dark couch in the middle of their huge living room. I swallowed dryly, and when I heard the sound of combat boots against the marble steps of the stairs, I felt my blood freeze in my veins; I very slowly turned my head…

And there he was. And I remembered why I never tried to think about the reasons why I shouldn’t hate Gerard Way, because there was just one single reason able to win and nullify many others.

Gerard was breathtaking, even more than how I recalled he was.

Motherfucker.

Since he returned from college, I hadn’t seen him properly, just from afar and in a nervous blur, but now here he was, arms crossed on his chest, part of his weight resting on the railing of the stairs, with his untamable wolfish black hair, his high and sharp cheekbones, his bright and smart green eyes, and that damned sly grin, which for once seemed honest. Weird. He really looked like he was pleased, and happy.

But I wasn’t. I felt like I was in a limbo, surrounded by thorns.

Gerard smiled again with his tiny teeth, then he went forward, taking my mother’s hand. “Good morning, Mrs. Iero”. He was so polite it was disgusting. But also… fascinating? Attractive. Okay, stop.

My mom, indeed, beamed. “Oh Gerard, it’s nice to see you again. You really have become a beautiful grown-up guy… I remember as it was yesterday when you were just a kid!” she said, smiling back at Donna.

I frowned internally, because that exact same woman didn’t remember how the ‘beautiful guy she remembered like it was yesterday’ was called like, the day before. While I was thinking about the big little lies of the Iero family, I suddenly found Gerard right in front of me, and I nearly choked on my tongue.

“Hi Frank”

Woah, he remembered my name. I once read that kids tend to forget the names of their toys. I shortly shook my head and I watched his clean face, his damned, cute crooked smile.  “Hi, Gerard”

And from the little spark in his eyes, I knew he remembered it all, too.

* * * *

In the end, my mother was right. The ‘horrible grilled vegetables’ were really there , and they weren’t that horrible like she said, but whatever, I had stopped arguing about it with her a long time ago.

During our shamelessly American lunch, I had the pleasure of witnessing a whole family eating all together in the backyard of a house, on a white, plastic table. Donna and my mom were speaking animatedly to each other, Donald was staring at the tablecloth with a fascinated interest, and I was watching Gerard push away the water every time Mikey tried to reach it, ignoring deliberately the ‘Give it back, asshole!’ whining of his little brother.  This ridiculous scene was enough to prove me right that _no_ , Gerard hadn’t changed. He still was the same asshole. 

And yet, the expression on Mikey’s face did not look like… hate. At all. There was annoyance, of course, but when he practically fell on his brother’s lap to reach the goddamned water, he was laughing – they both were, and when Gerard ruffled Mikey’s hair, the younger just stuck out his tongue at him before he burst out laughing again.

Thoughtfully, I furrowed my brows. I didn’t have a sibling, I didn’t know what this meant, I didn’t get it… My family was broken, pitifully fallen apart; my mother and I tried to be enough for each other, or at least, so we pretended. But Mikey and Gerard – despite everything and everyone – played, forgave, teased and _loved_ each other. And I didn’t understand, I couldn’t. But I wanted to.

If Gerard, or anyone else, would ever try to push away the water from me like that, I would have insulted him, beaten and kicked him in the ribs till he fell from the chair – if I’d have enough strength, that is. Certainly, I wouldn’t have laughed like Mikey was doing, and I wasn’t even sure if I had ever seen him laughing through all of these years, if you want honesty.

Somewhat absent-mindedly, I wondered what exactly I was missing out.

And for the first time ever, I surrendered to the fact that I was truly envious of something, and someone. I wanted too that light-heartedness, that forgiveness. But I did know I couldn’t have it.

It was Donna’s voice to bring me back from my thoughts, making me realize that everyone else had finished their meal, while one of my peppers was still miserably waiting for me on my plate.

“Gerard, why don’t you show Frank that comic collection of yours?”

My mom nodded vehemently. “Yeah, Frank loves comic books”. I mentally slapped myself, and then her.

“So you two can also talk about college with more tranquility”

Fucking conspirators.

Gerard raised an eyebrow slowly and skeptically. “Are you kidding? I don’t even let _Mikey_ touch that collection, mom”

“It’s true. And he’s an asshole”.

“Oh come on, don’t be a possessive kid once again, Gerard. I thought college had changed you for the better, just a little bit at least. And Mikey, watch your mouth”

Gerard laughed dryly. “Mom, the only thing college changed is the weight of your wallet, increasing the one of the dude who sells paint and canvases around the corner of a New York street”

After that, the conversation transformed into a argument between mother and son I wasn’t able to follow properly, so I didn’t fully realize how the heck Donna Way persuaded her son to get up from the table. Anyway, Gerard sent me an imperative glare before he quickly got out of the backyard, head held high, leaving behind himself Mikey’s giggle and a very confused version of me. I thought about rebelling from this shit, considering I didn’t even get to say a word about what _I_ wanted to do, but then I realized I had had enough of the annoying motherly conversations of the two women, and Donald was useless, so I ruefully followed Gerard inside the house.

He looked at me once again, inexpressively, then he started to climb the stairs toward his room. I tried to imagine how our grim faces looked from the outside, knowing it’d look like a scene from a movie, right before a murder, maybe.

I had to admit it though, Gerard’s collection was _huge_ and remarkable, managed with surprising care and devotion; held up by many shelves, it hid a big portion of the wall, resting between posters, books, canvases. I had never been in this room before, _of course_. For a moment I stayed like that, lips parted in awe and admiration, but then I forced myself to rebuild the walls around my emotions, and I quickly shut my mouth.

Gerard folded his arms across his chest, gaze fixed on his collection before it landed on me, with a strange expression I didn’t fully understand. Again. “Good. Now that you know what it means to have a passion you would chase all around the world, I want you to remember you cannot touch it or breathe on it. The ideal distance is about 50 inches . Mikey’s rules are applied even for non-brothers. Got it?”

And with that I felt a violent rush of annoyance, and before I could control myself, my mouth opened suddenly: “Tsk, as if I really give a fuck about your stupid comics”, I spat.

For a short moment, on Gerard’s face flashed… confusion? Offense?  Disappointment? Then, it was just anger, but it faded quickly and any other emotion died, leaving his face blank, annoyed and almost surrendered. He sighed heavily and looked at me wearily. “Okay. Okay. I got it, you don’t want to be here. That’s fine, I don’t want you here too. So, what are you doing? You could have stayed down with the others, or at home, for that matter”

I blinked rapidly a couple of time, trying to gather my thoughts and recognize the storm or emotions I was feeling buzzing in my mind and stomach. In the end I gritted my teeth, watched him with narrowed eyes. “What were you expecting I’d say? ‘ _Oh Gerard that’s awesome what’s your favorite superhero?’_ We’re not children anymore. Those times are gone, Gerard…” I hissed, swallowing the bitter lump I felt in my throat. “Actually, we’ve never had ‘em”

“No. But I was expecting a bit of respect, given that you’re in my house”

I goggled, opening my eyes wide and tripping over my own words. “I – you… _respect_?! You’re talking about respect? The one who’s been the most disrespectful person to me, is asking now some fucking _respect_?” I shouted.

“Exactly! Perhaps we have lived our childhood in alongside places, Frank, but you don’t know anything about me!”

“Of course I don’t know anything about you!”, I shrieked. “Because _you’ve never allowed me to!!_ ”

Gerard opened his mouth, as if he was going to shout something too, but no sound came out. When I noticed he was breathing heavily and his eyes were huge and wildly beautiful, his pupils dilated and dark and sweat on his forehead, I realized that during our angry confrontation we had involuntarily moved closer, so we were yelling at each other’s face.

Feeling even more uncomfortable with his silence, I decided I wanted to yell a little more, so I did, pointing a finger against his chest. “And you wanna know why? It’s because you’re an _asshole_ Gerard Way, that’s why!”

My touch seemed to bring him back from the stall state he had fallen into. “I am a – “ he repeated disbelievingly. “Well if I am an asshole, than you’re a fucking jerk! And don’t you come here accusing me of some stupid things I’ve done as a kid!”

“You have no idea what you made me go through!”

“And in any case it never looked like you wanted to know me!” Gerard shrieked close to my face, a slight hint of hysteria in his voice.

“Then you’re blind as well as stupid!”

“You were drooling over that Jamia, your only interest in me was to slander me, dickhead!”

“Because you were slandering me! I used to bring Jamia right in front of my house just to fucking prove you that someone was actually able to love me, given that neither you nor my dad ever tried!”

“Well it was a shitty idea!”

“I know!!”

“Then you’re a dumb _jerk_!”

“And you’re a stupid _asshole_!”

One second earlier we were gasping for air, sweating…. and a second later, our lips were smashed together. With rush, heat, need and anger.

I don’t know why, I don’t know how, I don’t even know when. I didn’t know whose idea it had been, probably of the both of us, or no one, I didn’t give a damn, ‘cause it had been more of a impulsive urge than a proper idea; a secret and needy desire, completely _insane_ , because really, I had never done something more insane than this in my whole life.

But fucking hell, Gerard was a good kisser.

And this hadn’t been one of those chaste, sweet first kiss – oh, no… it had been a passionate kiss, almost violent, between lips, tongues, teeth, hands. Because it was  full of frustration, pride, wrath, and perhaps, even revenge. It was a kiss full of hate, but you know, they always say how hate sometimes tastes a lot like love.

And yet, this totally was the best kiss I had ever had and given, because Gerard’s taste was – surprisingly – sweet, but also sharp, feral, overwhelming and captivating, just like his personality. Plus, the pressure of his mouth on mine was making my legs go weak, nullifying and blocking any thoughts, apart from a row of  ‘Oh my god, oh my god, it’s Gerard, the guy I admired, the guy I hate. And God, please, _closer_ ’.

Like moths toward the lights, my fingers reached for his hair, twisting in his locks and pulling him closer to me, down at my damn shorter height, and he moaned slightly just as I felt his hands clawing at my back, there between my shoulder blades, making other shivers run down my spine, as if the movements of his lips and tongue weren’t enough to fucking up my brain. Hell, I obviously moaned loudly right back.

If there actually was a part of me screaming in horror somewhere in my head, by now someone must have brutally killed it, because I didn’t want to break this contact ever again, as far as it may sound stupid and insane considering I had hated this guy _for years_. But here I was, kissing him fervently. Perhaps the fascinating part was exactly that.

I guess you can hate and act all punk how much as you want, but when you find Gerard Way two inches away from your face, there’s very little you can do.

When we finally broke apart, it was due to the lack of air. For some long, insecure moments – my hands still on his head and his still on my back – we just stared at each other with giant, dark eyes, confused and excited.. and yet, neither in me nor in him I saw regret, and even this was actually pretty strange.

“I hate you”, mumbled Gerard in a quiet whisper. His hot breath grazed my cheek, and I half-closed my eyes.

“And I hate you more”

Gerard nodded slowly. “We didn’t talk about college”.

I shook my head and took one more short, awkward moment breathing in his scent, before I untied my fingers from his hair, leaving my arms abandoned at my sides. I quickly licked my lips, feeling suddenly slightly guilty. “Anyway…. I really like it. Your collection, I mean”

At first, Gerard cocked an eyebrow mockingly, but then he smiled genuinely, with a hint of sadness. “And I really liked your castles of mud”.

Yesterday, perhaps, I would have burst out crying, or yelling, and I would have kicked him until he’d bled like a colander.

But today, instead, I just laughed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So… yeah. That is.  
> I hope my English wasn’t too shitty.  
> Thanks to anyone who’d been able to read all of this, see ya!  
> _Ashes


End file.
